


Snapshots

by TheMourningMadam



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:02:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24364012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMourningMadam/pseuds/TheMourningMadam
Summary: A series of ficlets, drabbles, and one-shots based on prompts given. Can range from fluffy to Dark and anything in between.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	1. The Morning After

She was divine, all wrapped in black silk with her hair splayed wildly over the pillow. The early morning sun caught in her tendrils and set them ablaze with radiance. Her lips, swollen with kisses, were parted as she let out little puffs of air while she slept. Draco ran his fingers over every inch exposed from under the sheets, already craving her once more. Their entire night had been spent right here in this bed, getting lost in one another and dying a dozen little deaths before sunrise.

He so badly wanted to slip his hand between her thighs and go for round...four? Five? He'd lost count of how many times she trembled and quaked around him. Instead, he placed a line of gentle kisses along her lovebitten shoulder as he pulled the sheets away from his own naked waist. She stirred slightly, moving her hand to lay across her belly. As he pulled a pair of joggers on, he was struck by how gorgeous she was—thoroughly fucked and wholly satiated. He doubted he would ever get enough of her.

By the door, the bell on Crookshanks collar jingled. The kneazle sat in the doorway, wrapping his tail around his legs and flicking it twice in indignation. "Come along, you bloody beast. Let's get you something to eat."

Draco reached down and lifted him into his arms, scratching behind his ears as Crookshanks purred. Setting him on the floor, he dug through the refrigerator and found a container of salmon. When he turned around, Crookshanks was on the counter, his dish in front of him and staring at Draco expectantly. Hermione would tease him if she knew that Draco was "spoiling their child" with fresh fish instead of the nuggets of muggle cat food she insisted were just as nutritious.

Scooping a few forkfuls into the dish, Draco gave him another scratch on the head as he ate. "We won't tell mummy."

"Tell mummy what?"

Draco turned to find Hermione stretching, wearing only his black t-shirt and smiling dazedly at him. Fuck, even after countless nights together, she managed to make his heart skip a beat with that smile. "How I'm making that cat far too fat and happy."

Hermione's grin widened and she stepped into to embrace him around his middle. Sliding her hands under the band of his joggers, she cupped his arse with a tight squeeze. "You made me more than happy last night. I wanted to pick up where we left off and you weren't there."

"I came down to make breakfast."

"After," she replied, slipping the joggers from his waist. Draco bent to take her pouty bottom lip between his teeth as he ran his hands along her thighs and around. He lifted her to perch atop the counter and traced along her hip with one hand, relishing in the way her breathing picked up as he brushed along her core. He groaned at the slick feel, and she dropped a hand back to brace herself, sending Crookshanks scampering away.

It looked like he would be getting his round... _whatever_ after all.

O-O-O


	2. Accidental Magic

"Scorpius, put your little bum into that water! I will not tell you twice!" Draco warned, sitting on the edge of the bath with trouser legs rolled up as he tried to maneuver his son into the tub.

Covered in baking flour and with a mood that was rapidly turning surly, he took a deep breath as Scorpius let out a fresh set of wails and grabbed at his father's shirt with tiny fists. " _I can handle Scorpius,"_ Draco had assured Hermione as she set to work cleaning the kitchen. The baby seemed on a mission to prove him wrong.

At only eight months of age, he was prone to accidental bouts of magic that rocked the house on its foundation. He also _loathed_ bathtime. The combination should have been enough to warn Draco for what was to come.

Instead, as soon as Scorpius' bottom touched the surface of the water, he gave a shrill screech and the bathwater exploded from the tub. Draco set Scorpius in the empty tub as he stood to survey what would become the next project on a growing list of clean-ups. Water dripped from every inch of the room, including a drop that fell right between Draco's eyes as he looked up. Flinching, he sighed as he scrubbed a hand over the spot.

Suddenly, a fresh wave of giggles sounded from between his feet. Draco peered down and Scorpius looked up at him, laughing hysterically. He held up a rubber dragon toy, offering it as a measure of truce between them. A sucker for the sound of such innocent joy, Draco sighed as a smile spread across his face. He sat in front of Scorpius in the tub and, fully clothed, ran the water for the second time. With a flick of his wand, the rubber dragon flew circles around Scorpius' head, causing a fresh wave of laughter on both their parts.

When Hermione came in a few minutes later, Draco and Scorpius were sitting in a sudsy bath, each sporting a beard and hat made of bubbles. "What happened here?" she asked, glancing around at the destruction and stepping in carefully to avoid slipping.

"Accidental magic."

o-o-o

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Darshu, who wanted some baby Scorpius. Join my facebook group-The Scryer's Eye


	3. Teacher's Pet

Draco sat at the desk in the professors' suite that he shared with Hermione. Tipping his head to either side to stretch the muscles of his neck, he let out a long suffering sigh. While he loved hands-on and practical coursework, grading tests had to be the most mundane, mind-numbing thing he did each week.

Removing his glasses, he buried his face into his hands and pressed the pads of his fingers against his tired eyes. It had been far too long since he'd first sat down. He held his position until he saw stars.

"Ahem."

It was a quiet, dainty clearing of the throat. Draco looked up to find Hermione leaning on the doorway, wearing what could only be described as Muggle debauchery. The slip of ivory lace emphasized every one of Hermione's soft curves and hugged her in a way that made his mouth water.

A wicked grin formed on Draco's face as he stood, tipping the chair back in his haste. The buttons of his oxford wouldn't come apart quickly enough as he fumbled through toeing off his socks. Finally resorting to just ripping the last few buttons clean from the fabric, he tossed the shirt clear across the room.

Hermione let out a tinkling laugh, one that still made his heart race after years of hearing it. A laugh she reserved only for him. He undid his trousers and slipped them down forcefully, tripping over them as he tried to hop out of them. Draco had to catch himself on the edge of the couch as he fumbled toward her. Hermione, for her part, tossed her head back and laughed ever more heartily.

"You minx," he growled, finally free of his trousers.

"Guilty." He met her in the doorway and she tossed her arms around his neck, still smiling as he kissed her. She let out a whimper as he nibbled at her bottom lip and pushed her back against the doorjamb. Hermione kissed like she fucked—pouring every ounce of herself into it, making him weak at the knees.

Draco propped his arm against the jamb above her, needing to brace himself as she scraped her nails along his hips. "Let's go to bed, Draco," she purred, slipping her hands under the waist of his pants and pulling his arousal flush against the apex of her thighs as she ran a heel over his calf.

Running his palms over her sides and cupping her breast firmly, he hummed, "With pleasure."

"Yours or mine?" she quipped and he let out a resounding growl at her sassiness.

She turned and he smacked soundly across one of her arse cheeks as she went. Squealing with delight, she sprinted the rest of the way to the bed and Draco slid pants the rest of the way down as he approached her. "Saucy little witch," he teased as she crawled back up the bed to rest against the pillows. He climbed over her, following each of her moves with one of his own. He felt positively feral at that point.

As he made his way up her legs, he slid the lace up to expose her glistening core. Draco ran his fingers, light as air, over her inner thighs. Enticed to spread open for him, she bent both legs and fisted the sheets in anticipation of what was to come. "Good girl," he breathed, lowering to swipe his tongue along her seam.

When he gave her bud a not-so-gentle suck, Hermione's fingers dug into the bedding. Draco smiled, giving her one last taste before he rose up to lean over her. Kissing along her jaw, he held his lips next to her ear. "Yours," he whispered as he sank into her.


	4. Ghostly

The feel of his hand in hers was so _right._ She relished the few hours each year she could spend with his hand in hers, his voice playing over her heart and soothing her in ways she couldn't begin to measure. The days between the second of each May were long and despairing, filled with grief and longing. Draco had been gone for nearly ten years, and yet the wounds of his death filled Hermione just as wholly as they had the day he died.

Making their way through the field of late-blooming dandelions and toward the cemetery, her mood began to sour. The meadow was filled with the white-headed flowers, the seeds and fluffies being carried away as they swiped across them. "No matter how many wishes left unmade in this field, I can only think of one wish," Draco began, looking down at her as he bumped her with an icy shoulder. "I wish I could have spent more time with you."

"It wasn't enough Draco. Two years with you wasn't enough," Hermione rasped, swiping angrily at her tear-filled eyes.

"Don't cry, Granger. It won't do you any good to get upset," he murmured, stepping in front of her to cup her face.

"I can't do this. Every year it only gets harder."

Draco was silent a beat before he lifted her chin to look into his steely grey eyes. "You need to move on, Hermione. This isn't healthy for you to keep coming to see me. Any wizard would be lucky to have you."

Hermione glanced over his shoulder, unable to look into his eyes, to listen to the worry in his voice. The cemetery gates that lined the far edge of the dandelion field swung open, anticipating his return. "Will you be here? Next year, will you still come?"

Draco's features softened as he caressed her cheek. "I'll be here for as many years as you need me. But think about what I've said. Any wizard would be lucky to have you."

Hermione nodded, leaning into his palm as she shed a year's worth of tears on his shoulder. Draco wrapped his arms around her and tucked her head under his chin. "I have to go. I love you, forever."

"And always," she finished, giving him a watery smile.

With that, the cemetery's pull became too great and he began to glide back toward it. He raised his hand and gave her a heartbreaking smirk. Hermione collapsed into the field of dandelions, thousands of discarded wishes mocking the one true desire in her heart: to have just one more day, one more hour, one more minute with Draco Malfoy.

o-o-o

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Mama Trink, who made a beautiful manip and requested some tragedy.


	5. The Wrong Embrace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: Alludes to rape/kidnapping/assault

The room was whitewashed, _sterile_. After three years hidden away in Lucius Malfoy's clandestine priest-hole—a suffocating stone room tunneled under the hearth of his fireplace—the stark white was nearly anesthetic. Her mind, splintered into mere slivers of what it had once been, ached with exhaustion and fragility.

Alone in the room, the silence began to close in on her from every direction, pressing into every inch of her being with all of the force of a vice. From her hideaway, she'd listened day in and day out to the Malfoy family and their servants' hustle and bustle. She'd been forced to hear as her love wept countless hours over her falsified departure; as he began to heal and laugh once more; as he made love and proposed to Astoria Greengrass.

As Lucius took and stole and devoured Hermione each night, Hermione closed her eyes and imagined it to be Draco. But it was all wrong; everything had been so _wrong_. His touches weren't the soft caresses of Draco's fingers over her skin. His breath didn't carry the pleasant cool of Draco's spearmint candies. The body rutting over her wasn't the trim and agile frame Draco had trained so adamantly for.

Lucius Malfoy was a _monster._

Hermione picked at the tender skin alongside her thumbnail, drawing blood as she peeled back a hangnail. The blood rushed behind her ears creating a melancholic buzz as though an infestation of bees lived just behind her eardrums. Every beat of her heart brought a throb to her eyes, swollen in their sockets from prolonged years of sleep deprivation.

The door knob rattled, the metal clicking as it stuck and had to be forcefully jiggled a few times to relent. The sound was reminiscent of the iron latch that Lucius pulled to disappear beneath the Manor. Saliva began to build in Hermione's mouth as she fought the urge to vomit. As she clenched her eyes closed she could smell the musty earth of the room, taste the damp air in her mouth.

The door swung open and Harry stood in the doorway, blocking another figure to no avail. Hermione could see the undeniable swath of cornsilk hair, hear the agitated timbre in the bass of his voice as he ordered Harry out of the way. "Don't...don't overwhelm her, Malfoy," Harry muttered, shooting Hermione a guilty look. "He wouldn't take no for an answer. He nearly got himself locked in Azkaban."

Hermione gave a single nod and Harry moved out of the way, revealing Draco at last. Her heart should have skipped a beat, her hands should have reached out for him, her long-dormant magic should have caressed his. Instead, Hermione simply stared blankly at him, eyeing him as the gaze of wounded prey would trace a stalking predator.

He took one step in before he came to an abrupt halt just inside the door. Harry moved to close the door after him, sympathy painting his features. Draco stood where he was, his eyes roving over her hunched body, taking in every scratch, every inhuman angle of her skeleton, every violet and yellowing bruise.

A sob, guttural and grotesque, tore from Draco's chest, the sound of it nearly deafening after the silence of the room and gentle buzzing in her head. He still hadn't moved his feet a single step closer, unable to as his legs quaked under his weight. Giving in to weakness, Draco dropped to his knees, tenting his hands over his nose and mouth, his glassy eyes staring at her over his fingertips.

His breaths were ragged as he fought to steady them, his hands shaking uncontrollably as he drew them away from his face. "I had no idea. You were there the whole time and I never _knew_." His voice broke on the last work, anguish and grief overtaking him.

Hermione knew what he was saying was the truth—Lucius had forced her to pen a letter of farewell to Draco on the eve of their wedding—but she couldn't help feeling an uneasy bitterness toward the man she'd once called her soulmate.

Lucius was _his_ father, after all. It had been in _his_ home where she was stowed away. It was _he_ who should have saved her from this evil.

Draco, unable to stand, crawled on his knees toward her, crossing the room slowly. Her gaze followed his jarring movements and when he stopped at her feet and took hold of her hands between his two trembling ones, she closed her eyes to him. She didn't want him to see into their depths, past the dullness that had settled there and into the fractured remnants of her soul beyond.

His forehead dropped to her hands, his hair tickling over her wrists and his tears splashing over her knees as he begged for forgiveness, for understanding, for her to say something— _anything._ She felt his head lift from her knee and she opened her eyes, aching to feel something beyond the severed connection they'd once shared.

Looking up at her, Draco lifted his palm to touch her face, gingerly swiping her hair away to run a thumb over her cheek. All the burdens of Atlas showed through his gaze, the weight of his father's sins smothering the fiery anger that burned there. His stare softened and he searched her face uncertainly, touching her with all of the care used in handling a newborn.

"I'm glad you killed him," he told her, his voice rife with conviction. "I would have done it myself, if I'd had any inkling or heard a whisper in the walls. I don't even know what to say to you—"

Hermione lifted her hand, placing a single finger over his lips. Her own emotions warred upon hearing the despair literally choking him. No tears fell from her eyes, no words from her lips.

She simply dipped her head and placed it on his shoulder, allowing his arms to wrap around her in a crushing embrace.


	6. My Beautiful Secret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Mentions Draco's crass use of the word "cripple."

Hermione huffed and muttered to herself as she stormed out of the back door of the Manor and out onto the veranda. Her hair was voluminous and her magic sparked at her fingertips as she slammed into a chair opposite Narcissa. The Malfoy matriarch raised one perfectly sculpted brow as she took a sip of her tea. "Something wrong, Miss Granger?"

Dropping her head back, Hermione crossed her arms. She felt every bit the petulant child as she pursed her lips and ground out, "Yes! He is bloody _awful!"_

Narcissa placed her teacup on the table and crossed her hands on one knee. "He's strong-willed—"

"Strong-willed? He told me if I didn't leave him be, he'd toss himself—in his wheelchair—down the stairs and accuse me of assault on a cripple!"

A faint smile tugged at the corners of Narcissa's mouth. "Fine. I'll concede. He's stubborn and sharp-tongued. _Not_ unlike his caretaker."

"He's—" Hermione grasped for a word, gesturing over her shoulder toward where his window would be, "He's _vexing_. I'm trying to help him through his recovery so that he might rejoin society, but he's more apt to sit in his room and mope about his disabilities."

Narcissa, always prim and proper, straightened the fastening of her robes and plucked a nonexistent piece of lint from her sleeve. "Miss Granger, if you think you aren't making a difference in Draco's life, you certainly aren't the ' _Brightest Witch of Her Age.'_ "

"I'm not making any headway with him!"

Placing her hands over her knee once more, Narcissa's ruby red lips broke into a genuine smile. "Before you came, Hermione, Draco wouldn't even get out of bed. He laid in the same position and stared at the wall, day in and day out. But now? Now he allows you to get him up in the mornings, bathe and tend to him. Just yesterday, you were pushing him around the gardens."

Hermione's shoulders slumped as the tension eased. Glancing toward his balcony behind her, she found Draco sitting in the doorway, his eyes focused on her. Upon making eye contact, Draco turned his head, pretending to be preoccupied by a passing bird in flight. Hermione's heart raced in her chest, dragonflies fluttering in her belly as he snuck a second glance in her direction.

When she pried her eyes away from him and returned to her conversation with his mother, she found Narcissa smirking knowingly. Heat seared through Hermione's chest, blooming over her neck and into her cheeks as she averted her eyes. "I think you make him quite happy. And he does the same for you. You're both just too stubborn to admit you secretly fancy each other."

"Granger," Draco's deep voice called from above her. "I think I'd like to pick gardenias for Mother. Come help me get down the stairs."

The blush burned in Hermione's cheeks as Narcissa smiled and stood to go inside, patting her shoulder as she walked past. "Best not to keep him waiting, dear."

o-o-o

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have big plans for this drabble for the future. Like...90 chapters big...coming later this year.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for CH based on a prompt picture of a sexy man feeding a fluffy orange cat on the counter. Feel free to join my group on facebook-The Scryer's Eye


End file.
